Held
by Scribbler
Summary: (This fic belongs, not to me, as you might expect from the tag, but to Yma, who doesn't have her own ff.net account.) Pietro reflects on his life, and the actions that have led to his current predicament [Complete fic]


NOTE FROM SCRIBBLER: OK, just to clarify, the following fic doesn't actually belong to me, but I've agreed to post it on behalf of Yma, because she doesn't have an ff.net account of her own. This is her first piece of Evo fiction, so review lots, but be gentle. Everything from here on in is her wording, plot, perspective, etc.  
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DISCLAIMER: X-Men Evolution belongs to Marvel and all the people who make that wonderful cartoon, not me! I've just fiddled about with the setting characters etc. I'm not doing any harm! Please don't sue me! I haven't got any money, though I do have this nice story....  
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'Held'  
By Yma  
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When my father was angry with me, he used to Hold me. Tightly.   
  
Don't get me wrong, I love my father. I mean, you can say a lot of bad things about the guy, and sure, he wouldn't ever come top of the 'Best Dads in the World' list, but, well, he's my Dad.   
  
I mean, in almost 16 years of single parenting to two hyperactive, super-powered kids, he never once raised his hand against us. My dad's many things, but he was never a child beater.   
  
Sometimes, though, things would get out of hand, and he would loose his patience. Sometimes he had to restrain us. For our own good, you see. Times like that he used to Hold me.   
  
It was inevitable that we would have these little conflicts. We're very much alike, my Dad and me. Both strong, proud; some would say arrogant. We both love each other too, I'm sure of that.   
  
I have to be.   
  
Some people say that isn't so; that my dad just used us and that we were no more than tools. Shows what they know! Sure, he did some experiments on us, but they were for our own good, you see.  
  
I remember when we were young; about four or five, we began to ask questions. Like why we had to take the medicines dad gave us; or why I could outrun every kid in school; or why Wanda was always so lucky? And he sat us down, and he answered us. He cried in parts. I'd never seen my dad cry before.   
  
He sat us down, and he told us about our mother.   
  
When he was younger, he and Mom were touring Germany with us, though we were only a few months old at the time. He'd always been fascinated by genetics, and he already had ideas about the mutant gene, though he didn't know he was a mutant then. My Dad, (and this is a secret he'd rather no one would know), my Dad was a late developer.   
  
Any way, he and Mom were touring Germany, doing research in genetics, and they stopped in this little village, called Wizzledoff, or something. Apparently, there were some weird reports about some Count and his wife. Something to do with her being a blue witch! We were staying at this inn, and my Dad went around the village, doing questionnaires and trying to find out about the 'genetic makeup' of the population.   
  
Then something terrible happened. He lost his temper with someone, a townsperson, and suddenly this hammer flew at him, under its own steam. I mean, it flew though the air by itself! Straight at the man Dad was mad at. The man was unharmed - the hammer missed - but he was real scared of Dad. Dad didn't know what had happened; though he suspected that he was developing powers.   
  
When he got back to the inn, he found it on fire. Apparently the villagers had heard about my dad's accident. They'd decided he was some sort of evil wizard, and that my mum was a witch, and that we were both witches too. So they did what they had done to witches through out the centuries. They tried to burn us.   
  
This set off my Dad's powers again. He used magnetic force to push him up in the air, and he went into our room and saved us. He said that we came first because we were his children and there were two of us, and we couldn't survive the smoke so long.   
  
Anyhow, he went off to save Mom next, but she was scared too. She didn't know how he had this power, and she wouldn't let herself be rescued. Then people started throwing rocks at Dad, and some hit him. He lost his concentration and fell. The villagers started to beat him up. He begged them to let him save Mom, but they wouldn't listen.   
  
I remember exactly what he said to us at this point. He said, "If I could've saved her, if I could've done anything, *anything* at all, then I would have. I begged them to let me save her. I didn't mind if they killed me, but I loved her. They wouldn't listen, but I could. I could hear her screams as the fires burned her. And there was nothing I could do. I wasn't strong enough. I was never strong enough."  
  
He then said that he had this... rage. A feeling of electricity behind his eyes. It was like he saw red, and when he could see properly again he was surrounded by the dead bodies of villagers. Most had run away, but he'd killed a fair few.   
  
He then picked us up and took us away. Somewhere where we could be safe. A castle where this scientist he was meeting was doing experiments on the mutant gene.   
  
He used those experiments on us. Tried to change us; to make us more powerful, to make our powers develop earlier. He did the same on some others too, though often with less success. You see, he didn't want us to be weak. He'd seen his family die in the concentration camps when he was too weak to help; seen his wife burned to death because he was too inexperienced, and because stupid, fearful flatscans - humans - had stopped him; had let an innocent woman die because they thought she was different.   
  
He wanted us to be strong. He wanted us to have the power to defend ourselves and those we love. That's all he's ever wanted for any mutant, he says; just the ability to live and love without fear of prejudice and death.   
  
That was his dream, that was his ultimate love, and I know, now, that he loved it more than he loved us. Or perhaps he loved it because of us; perhaps he did it for his children. I don't know.  
  
I guess it was inevitable that he would put his dream before us. As time went on he left us for longer and longer, staying away for days at a time, sometimes. Working with new friends, new partners, people with steel skins and red eyes. Strange, dangerous people.   
  
He put us up with some foster families, they were OK, but they weren't like Dad. We missed him. We missed the way he used to hold us when we were sick. We missed how he would make us fly around the room with his powers. We missed the times when he would look down and smile at us. Smile just for us.   
  
We're both attention seekers, my sister and me, but when my sister was really coming into her powers she used to have 'episodes'. I thought they were temper tantrums with powers, but perhaps they were more.   
  
She'd had them for a while, even before Dad left us. Then they got so bad Dad had to come back to us. At first I was happy, I was glad that Wanda had them, they got us attention, they got us our dad back.  
  
But they didn't stop. They got worse. She would scream and kick and her powers would destroy everything. Dad did what he could. Sometimes he even got a little rough. He even begged her to stop, but she wouldn't.   
  
Dad said it was for the best, taking her away to a nice place where they could look after her. He said that when she had control of her powers, she could come out. He said it was for her own good. Everything he did was for our own good.   
  
And I went along with it. I let him put her in mental institution.   
  
I guess I let him do it because I was jealous. I can admit that now. I've always been an attention seeker, and I was jealous of Wanda; jealous of all the attention she got from Dad; jealous of the way he was practically ignoring me.   
  
I wondered if she was the reason why he left us in the first place. She looked like Mom; Dad had said so. He had said that I looked like him, and Wanda looked like Mom. I suppose that might be one of the reasons why he let her go. I thought that maybe, maybe if she were gone then he would stay. I wasn't any problem; I would do exactly as I was told, and I wouldn't throw temper tantrums or be any fuss. I wouldn't remind him of what he'd lost.  
  
So I let them take her away.  
  
Would I do it again? Course not, but I didn't know then what I know now.   
  
But I guess I had doubts even then. I argued with Dad, and that was what made him Hold me for the first time.   
  
We were arguing over Wanda, and I said that if he treated his own children like that, abandoning them because they didn't fit in with what he wanted, then mutant kind would be in a sorry state if he was leader. It was a cruel, nasty thing to say. I hurt him badly, so I deserved what came next, I guess.   
  
He used is power to Hold me. He used magnetic energy to stop the electric energy of my nerve impulses. He paralysed me.   
  
I'm a man of action; can't stop moving, got to keep busy. That's why jail, the lock up, is so scary to me. The idea of being on my own, with nothing to do, nothing to keep my busy... it's terrible. And to be held completely still; to not be able to move at all, not even speak? It's the worst kind of hell. I don't know how I survived it.   
  
He left me like that for three hours.  
  
When he let me go again I... I cried. I practically wet myself. I begged for forgiveness. I was so sorry, so ashamed. And he held me with his arms, hugging me close, and I felt safe again. I was his son and he loved me. It was my fault; if I hadn't been bad then he wouldn't have needed to do that. I promised that I would do what he said in the future, that I would try to be his perfect son. I wanted to be just like him.   
  
I meant it too; it's always been my ambition to be like my Dad. He's my hero, you see. He has power *and* control. Two very important things, and you can't have one without the other. Wanda found that out. She had power, but no control. That's why she had to be left behind.   
  
In fact, there's only one other thing I've ever wanted to be. When I was young, I.... well, I was difficult to look after. I mean, I've always been hyperactive, even before my powers developed properly. I've never been able to watch much TV, for example. I can watch some short cartoons, even a program of half and hour or so, but I loose concentration so quickly. I rarely have the patience to watch a film or anything; I can always think of more exciting things to do. I get bored easily.   
  
But there's one program; one thing on TV that would have me hooked for hours. Still does. Around summer time I like to turn on the TV and sit for hours, watching Formula 1 car racing.   
  
Those racers; Schumacher, Coultard, Mansill, they were always my heroes. When I was younger I wanted to be a racing driver. I wanted to be the quickest, best driver, with the fastest car. I wanted to be the first mutant-racer. I imagined myself holding the winners cups, spraying the Champaign, surrounded by beautiful women. I imagined my Dad looking on, proudly, as I won the title for the 10th year in a row; as I became the best racer ever.   
  
Of course, as my powers matured I learned that I could outrun most cars, and that I had a greater destiny than driving some lump of metal for the flatscans' amusement.   
  
But part of the dream remained. The dream of coming first.   
  
If I've learned one thing, it's that life is a race, a competition, and that you don't get any prizes for coming   
second.   
  
Dad left me again left me in foster care in New York, shortly after we left Wanda. I figured I'd let him down somehow, that I wasn't good enough and I had to be the best.   
  
Perhaps that's why I had that thing going on with Daniels. Maybe I was jealous of him, too. He never had to try to get attention; he never had to compete with any dream to be a son to his parents.   
  
There were other reasons as well. For example, aside from my Dad, my sister, and some of my Dad's friends, I'd never really known another mutant before. Never had one to compete with. Never really had anyone to challenge me since Wanda.  
  
There were humans of course, but they don't count, they're not even in the race. Humans are the bystanders, or the cones in the road. Never the actual drivers.   
  
That's one of the things that annoys me most about Daniels, he acts like humans are... well, things to be respected or something. Humans are stupid; they're the ones who just eat and breed and work. They don't shape the world. The only thing they've got against mutants is numbers; they can't _do_ anything except be incredibly ignorant. They don't even have the brains to realise how much more powerful we are, how we're above them. Homo-superior. Dad's so right when it comes to them, though I think he treats them with too much respect himself. Then again, he is an adult. Sure, I love him, sure I want to be like him, but I was never going to ruin the best time of my life because of him. Powers can be used for fun too, and there's not much more fun than watching flatscans run around in circles, trying to pick up the pieces.   
  
But like I said, Daniels has always had way too much respect for them. That's why I never had much respect for him. Maybe that's why he wins against me, sometimes. Dad once said to me 'respect your true enemy, for within him is a shadow of yourself.' I didn't understand him then, but I think I do now. I've had plenty of time to think.   
  
I suppose I see it between him and Xavier. They're both so different, yet so similar. I can understand why they used to be friends. Perhaps, in other circumstances, Daniels and me could have been friends. We're both fun-loving, after all; we both live fast; and I'm a firm believer in the old saying 'live fast, die young.'   
  
Well, the first part, at least, and perhaps the second part on occasion. Like when my Dad dumped me off at that boarding house.   
  
The Brotherhood - what a bunch of losers! Toad and Fred are just untrained idiots. Maybe if they had some guidance they could do better, but even that's doubtful. Then there was Lance. Lance! He has a great power; he could move mountains! But control? He couldn't control a pink poodle, let alone himself. And I fought with him for the position of leadership!  
  
The only one of them worth any respect was Mystique. She had skill, power, control; but she ran away. Left us, and my father. She was a traitor. It was ridiculous; the entire situation had been ridiculous. And painful. Dad had left me again. Left me in the playgroup, as if I wasn't ready to go with the 'big boys' yet.   
  
Maybe that's why I love pranks. Maybe that's why I loved to live fast. If I couldn't please my own Dad, then I might as well enjoy myself whilst annoying him. It was my own, private rebellion. I hate to be held down, by anything - physical or mental. Some say that makes me irresponsible; maybe that's partly true. Maybe that's why I didn't get to go with Dad's team. I'm too much of a free spirit. I knew though, that if I ever went too mad, if ever tried to run away from him, he'd HHdold me again.   
  
I never wanted that.   
  
I guess it all leads up to the situation now. To my own private hell.   
  
To Fabien Cortez.   
  
See, fast is never enough. I wanted to be fastest, faster than anything, Cortez offered me that.   
  
He's a mutant too; the ultimate mutant. He can enhance powers. He said he could make me faster. Faster than I am now; faster than almost anything on earth.   
  
I suppose you should be careful for what you wish for, but life's for living, and how could I ever resist an opportunity like that? All I had to do was steal some files off Dad. Nothing much, and I figured I'd make it up to him later. If I was even faster, even more powerful, then I could get them back. I could make him proud. Perhaps it was another sort of rebellion, another way of being free. Or maybe it was neither. Maybe I didn't care. Maybe I just wanted to be fast, just wanted to win the race.   
  
So I accepted, and I succeeded too. Dad found out of course, but not until I was well away.   
  
I gave Cortez the files, and he gave me the power.   
  
I ran with it.   
  
Running is what I do best, it's the ultimate joy for me. The speed, the action, the feeling of control and fulfilment. The slow build up, the apex, when you don't even feel your feet touch the ground, and the climax, rushing through the pain barrier into ecstasy. Even the comedown's good. It's like I've burned off all this energy, all this frustration and I can rest. I can run away from almost anything for a while.  
  
For a while.   
  
And the faster I run the longer it takes my problems to catch up with me.   
  
This time, with Cortez's improvements, I ran faster than anything. Faster than sound, faster than the wind. It was like I left myself behind, left everything behind. Daniels, the Brotherhood, Wanda, Dad - none of them were fast enough. I was the best. I was the winner. I was Windswift, Quicksilver, Mercury, the winged messenger. I was everything I ever needed to be. Speed personified. It was perfect.  
  
But I guess we were never meant to be perfect. See, my body couldn't handle it. I remember trying to scream in pain, but I was running faster than sound. By the time I heard my own scream I was lying face down in the dirt. The speed was too much for my metabolism; too much for my nerves. I fried out.   
  
Next thing I know, I'm here. In Xavier's little mansion, in the Med-Lab. Beast told me the truth, plain and simple. I'd worn my body out; overloaded and destroyed the nerves that carried electrical impulses from my brain to my body. I'm paralysed. Held, forever.   
  
That was six months ago. I've seen a lot of people since then. Xavier even let my Dad come, though we didn't talk much. I can't speak any more, you see. He came quite a bit at first; most weeks. But he was embarrassed. He doesn't like failures; doesn't like traitors. So he stopped coming months ago. He's ashamed of me.   
  
That's what hurts most of all.   
  
Still, at least he doesn't pity me, which is what I got from the Brotherhood, but they don't come much. Almost never, in fact.   
  
Then there's Wanda. She still hates me, which is good, but I think she's beginning to forgive me, which is bad. Soon she'll start to pity me too. I can't stand it!  
  
Then again, maybe I deserve it.   
  
Luckily the X-geeks don't come here either. Except Evan, sometimes. It's funny; I like to see him. He acts like we're still rivals, tries not to pity me, lets me hate him a little, and I'm grateful for that.  
  
The only other people I see are Xavier and Jean Grey. I can't talk, but I can still think, can still communicate telepathically. I think I've fallen in love with Jean. She's always there, and she's the only one I can talk to, the only one who understands me.   
  
I've managed to get a window in the roof so I can watch the stars. I've counted and named each one of them, just for something to do. They put a TV in too; I get to watch the Formula 1 racing.   
  
What people don't realise, though, is that I don't just move fast, I think fast. That's why people think I'm so impatient. I'm not. I can think about things quite a lot when I want to (though I prefer action any day), it's just that, for me, ten minutes thinking is equivalent to over an hour's worth for anyone else. Dad once said I can think at over ten times the speed of a human. I may not be able to move any more, but I can still think. I've done some math. I figure that if the average human lives up to seventy, then I've got seven hundred years worth of thinking.   
  
Nothing but thinking.   
  
I think I'll go mad, or perhaps become deeply philosophical. Doesn't matter which.   
  
I can't stand seven hundred years of hell.   
  
So I've started asking Jean and the Professor to kill me, to let me go. Whatever happens, whether I go to heaven or hell, or nowhere at all, it can't be worse than this. But they just say no. No matter how hard I beg, they say that life, every life, is worth saving, and is a life worth living.   
  
It's kind of ironic.  
  
My father used to Hold me, because he was angry with me.  
  
My enemies Hold me now, because they love me.  
  
I don't know which is worse.   
  
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*Notes:*   
  
I wrote this fic for two reasons.   
  
First was a healthy dose of inspiration from the fanfic 'Deep Water' by Dr. Worm, (which can be found on FF.net). It's a bit slashy, which I don't usually go in for, but it's wonderfully written and gave me a fantastic look into Pietro's mind. Thanks Dr. Worm!  
  
The second reason is to give a better portrayal of Magneto. It seems to me, from looking through a few stories on ff.net, that he's often treated as a plain old bad-guy. Thing is, in the comics at least, he's one of the most complex, fascinating villains there is. People seem to be too willing to treat the Brotherhood, Gambit, and even Mystique with an open mind, but whenever it comes to Magneto they seem to revert to the old bad-guy stereotype, which he really shouldn't be. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I've just looked at the wrong fics, but that's the impression I get. Anyhow, all I ask is that perhaps you should think about old Maggie a bit, consider what he's been through in his life, before writing him as 'Dr Evil.'   
  
Anyway, Thanks for reading this story, I really hope you liked it. Please tell me what you think, but don't flame, this is only my second Fanfic. [SCRIBBLER'S NOTE: And first Evo fic ^_^]  
  
Bye!   
  
[SCRIBBLER'S NOTE: From me too!] 


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